


The Future's Like Chicago

by sleepypatrick



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Band, M/M, modern high school au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepypatrick/pseuds/sleepypatrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Pete and Patrick and one of those nights that you don't forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Future's Like Chicago

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've posted, and it's totally unbeta'd so feel free to point out spelling/grammar/formatting errors if you see them. I feel some type of way about post-hiatus era fic, so imagine TTTYG era Pete and Patrick going to high school today. Inspired by a mix CD someone made for me, and dedicated to Alexis, who tolerates my incessant texts about gay fan fiction.

_9:38_

Patrick's phone is ringing. He knows this because despite his better judgement, it's sitting in front of him. He shouldn't answer; if he doesn't finish this chem homework he's going to fail tomorrow's quiz, no doubt about it. But it's Pete calling. His chemistry book is open to page 115, binomial nomenclature vying for his attention and losing as _Pete!!! :)_ flashes across his phone's screen.

"Hello?"

"Why'd it take you so long to answer?" Pete asks, voice small and distant-sounding over the phone.

Patrick rolls over so he's on his back, staring at his ceiling. "I'm doing homework."

"That's dumb. Come out with me tonight, Beckett is having a thing."

Patrick fights down the butterflies in his tummy before he speaks. "I can't. It's Wednesday and I have a quiz tomorrow."

"There's hella quizzes and only one Pete Wentz," Pete says.

"I want to, I just can't tonight, okay?"

Pete sighs on the other end. "Okay. I'll snapchat you."

_11:26_

Patrick finishes his homework despite frequent interruptions from Pete's snaps. He seems to be having a good time, laughing with people and smiling big for his phone's camera. Some of Patrick's friends are at Beckett's place, but he notes that none of his chemistry classmates are. He sighs looking at Pete's story. He wants to go out. But he wants to pass chemistry, too.

_10:01_

Patrick's phone is ringing. He doesn't consider not answering.

"Hi."

"Hi. Do you have homework tonight?" Pete asks.

Patrick pauses, forcing himself to be cool. "I might."

"Come outside, would ya? I wanna see you," Pete pleads. 

"Okay." Patrick grabs a hoodie and walks downstairs, hesitating as he sees his mom sitting on the sofa, watching TV.

"Patrick, where are you going?" She asks, glancing at the clock. 10:03, fifty-seven minutes until curfew.

"I'm just gonna step outside for a minute," Patrick says. "I'll be back in before curfew."

He goes outside, shutting the door behind him and looking around.

"Pete?" Patrick says into the dark. He squeaks as someone appears in front of him.

"That was adorable, it's going on my blog," Pete announces, dim porch light bouncing off his teeth as he grins.

"Pete, don't!"

"I'm kidding, this is for the personal stash. Do you wanna go somewhere?" Pete blurts, tentatively reaching for one of Patrick's hands.

"My curfew is soon," Patrick replies cautiously, letting Pete have his hand.

"I'll bring you back sooner." Pete walks them to his car. He drives them to the little park five minutes away, parking before taking Patrick's hand back up and helping him over the low fence that gets locked at night. They walk to the swings sit down, both of them toeing at the sand under their feet and looking away from each other. Suddenly, Patrick knows with unwavering certainty that Pete likes him. He feels hyper-aware and powerful, excited and scared.

"How's it feel to be a senior?" Patrick asks, staring up at the stars.

Pete snorts. "The same. Shitty. I'm not learning anything anymore." He takes a deep breath. "I don't know, it doesn't feel real yet. My older friends say it doesn't feel real until it's over. A lot of stuff is that way, I guess."

Patrick looks at him, searching to see if maybe his face has changed with his voice. He just looks tired. Patrick feels very young, unsure and not so giddy anymore. He turns the swing slowly, the creaking of the chain the only noise. Pete jumps up suddenly, placing his hands over Patrick's where they're wrapped around the swing's chain.

"Growing up is the worst. Promise me you won't," Pete demands, face inches from Patrick's.

"I can't-"

"For me. Promise."

"I promise."

"Good," Pete declares. He steps back until he's mostly out of the range of Patrick's feet and twists the swing chains till they're taut, turning Patrick in his seat. "Ready?"

Patrick nods, Pete lets go, and suddenly the world is spinning. He's spinning incredibly fast, scary fast. Patrick lets out a startled laugh, echoing too loud in the empty park. He doesn't care, he feels five years old again, carefree and the best kind of disoriented as the universe speeds by, carousel style. He feels like screaming just to hear the sound. Patrick closes his eyes and he can almost feel the sunshine of some long-gone afternoon, can almost hear the other kids laughing. It's over before Patrick can appreciate it fully, can take it in as a seventeen year old and not a seven year old. Pete's grabbing his thighs to stop him from doing another slow half revolution.

Pete's smiling at him, helping him get to unsteady feet to head back to the car.

"You cold?" He asks, helping Patrick over the fence again.

"Hmm?"

"Your face is all red," Pete states.

Patrick makes an _oh_ sound and reaches up to touch a cheek. His face is cold to the touch, and his hand smells like rust and old metal.

"I don't feel cold," Patrick says.

Pete leans in and kisses him, short and sweet. They’re quiet all the way back to the car, but they’re both smiling.

"You looked so happy out there," Pete muses, reversing out of his parking spot. Patrick glances at the dashboard clock. 10:48. He frowns; time had passed like it had been pulled taut and released, too.

_10:54_

"I made you this," Pete announces, shoving something at Patrick. He turns it over in his hands. It's a CD case, covered in scribbles that couldn't be made by anyone but Pete.

"You made me a mix CD?"

"I made you ten mix CD's, this was the only one good enough to actually give you."

Then they're both grinning and leaning towards each other and Pete kisses him again, this time longer and with more enthusiasm.

"Shit, I gotta get inside. Text me when you get in, alright?" Patrick opens his car door, clutching his CD in the other hand.

"I will. Thanks for coming out tonight."

_10:59_

Patrick comes in and locks the door behind him, shedding his jacket. 

"Right on time," His mom laughs. "Have fun?"

"Yeah, I did."


End file.
